Supernatral: Books And Gain
by Flights
Summary: A book seems to be a cause of murder everywhere. And it was all because of a book. And that book led to death, but for some reason, they aren't the people who wrote their ideas of life. But while investigation is going on, and the Devil's Gate is open...
1. Chapter 1

_Silent, mute, or people in shock or the mentally challenged are like cameras. They help in any way shape or form if they have to, especially if they are forced. And that's not easy. They can do that as fast or slow or whatever they feel like doing to finish helping. But apparently, for people, that isn't enough. We the people, unfortunately, all over this planet, or whatever planet you __may__ be on, we all love feedback for things. Almost literally everything. That's the thing. The Silent __don't__ give feedback. They don't speak. And apparently, stubborn as most people are, or whatever creature may be reading this, we expect it. We all expect feedback. But cameras only take pictures. They don't have their own voice, neither a personality. That's what I call a machine. If this is read in the future, I advise you look up the language 'English' and learn it. I may be an American, and we go extinct, I wouldn't be surprised. I'm just a teenager when I write these words. I write to waste time, and let my imagination flow. I'm twisted all right. But I write for more than a reason, and my theories are written all over this page(s). If not, an electronic invention. I've noticed that time passes slowly for technology, including stubborn people; basically, barely everything in the 21__st__ century goes slowly. I changed the subject, didn't I? Silly me. But one last sentence, and remember this well, almost as nightmare- Everything someone creates can be used to kill someone. Death is always around that corner, at that very stop sign. Who knows? One day your head might explode. Not to be paranoid, but watch out…I have ideas of killing people all the time. Americans are the worst type of people to be around, yet I'm one, everyone wants to live there, and yet we are the top of the century. No offense, but how stupid. We get sick so easily, it's pathetic. The world is. Yet we live in the world that was washed away and recreated. Yet the monsters are still here, the demons, the heartless, and the 'saviors'. I feel if this world is a complete lie._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatral whatsoever._

_This was just the main idea for the problem here, so sorry._

_Please wait for my update, and please tell me what you thought of this._


	2. Chapter 2

_// I Could Be Mean_

_I Could Be Angry_

_You Know I Could Be Just Like You //_

_Three Days Grace_

-_**Prelude-**_

A rather old but beautiful black car strode through the old country road, the 70's Chevy was in perfect shape. The daylight shone through the trees, and glinted off the finish like holy white. But here was a dark grayish brown tint as well. The dark color made the car look nicer, and the forest around them were like twists and turns a old smiles of the dead. Crows appeared above the driver and the passenger, but they didn't notice. And as well as the crows, a black liquid-like pollution flew with the crows, and it soon became silent.

The passenger and the driver were having an arguement. They did this natrally. Both of them wore Leather Coats, and silver fire arms at their sides. The inside had white leather seating, a new touch, but the car was trashed with wrappers, old food, and tapes. The driver was trying to pay attention to the road, his characteristic face showed he did want to argue about this.

The other, was full of his stubborn ass mood, and his curly hair shook, becuase his face had reddened from anger, and the forgetfull use of right words, that the driver pointed out and used against him.

"Look, Sam, I'm not in the mood to talk about Ben-"

"You left him with that book, Dean, and we're now going up to North Carloina for clues of it. You have no idea what that book has inside it-!"

"Yeah, I know. Stuff about the Seven Sins, and the destruction of Hosts. It makes absoluley no sense. We exorcised the Seven Sins. I trust Ben with it-!"

"Well, I think you shouldn't. A kid his age could find it, Dean, and that's exactly the type of a kid they want. They want a kid who will sin eventully. Since you say he's so much like you, than-!"

Dean had rather spiky hair, and women fell for him all the time, while Sam had the curly hair, and really had bad luck with relationships. Both argued about who was taller. But the current problem was getting worse.

Dean immediatly slammed on the brakes, than accelerated, and turned swirftly, and ended up in the side of the road. Dean got out of the car, slammed the door, opened his brother's side, and began dragging him. Dean let him stand up, and Dean gave a bulls eye punch to the nose, and began betaing him against the twisted trees.

"Look, Asshole! I trust him with it! He is the last remant of what I may become, even if he isn't my son, he's damn close. I want him to follow little traces of my foootsteps, but I want him to be him. No matter qwhat, I trust him. He's already saved lives. He's saved people he doesn't even know. That's something. Last time I remember the first time I tried to save someone--or your first time-- they died! I failed, you failed. He suceeded! I see future there, and I left it with him. Besides, you have yours, and that fuckin' shit is creepy, so...but shut up! When I trust someone, I trust them. That's my word."

Gunfire shut off their 'confersation', and sounds and smells of screams, blood, and fire entered both of their senses, as sulfur also entered the mix.

"Demon. Get in the car."

**_Dreamism. How delightful it is to dream, know that the feeling inside us brings us happieness for something we want.  
_****_Dreams are excuses of some kind, because at times we see what we would've never imagined, or something we don't like that haunts and hides in the dark corner of a citizen's sanity.  
Visions, so to speak. The stereotypical world finds it weirdm the human race is blind as they destroy what is dear to them.  
Either which ever way we turn to, longer or shorter, there's always the fear of the end.  
And whatever hell we experience, there's always the feeling that you're caged, you want it all to stop, and that no such sane person as yourself would ever truthfuly and faithfully understand.  
And that's where dreams come in._**

**_Dreams, at times, your perfect world. Some optimists may not agree, but hell, the pessimists do.  
A way of being awake while creating and constructing your own fantasies would also be called writing. But no one can ever understand the full potential of that they're reading. We're all sure there is nothing 'perfect' in this world.  
Horror movies, Movies, Comics, Music, Books, T.V Shows, Blogs, Internet, Media, almost everything is trying to tell you what life would be like if it was different. The goal of fiction is to do so, in many kinds. But as we say, nothing's perfect. _**

But there's where something you only know, a world you only know, the people you only know, and who you are you only know. The self-concious part of the mind that you hide in when you sleep.  
And we call it, 'A Dream'. The world set in a single person's view of how we want it to be. A happy place.  
But some wish, and often even fear, 'What if we got caught in this world of ours'? Like when we wake up every day, the same routine of some kind, and the depression of the day never ending.  
But what if you woke up in another place, and noticed you looked different, the rooms are different, the whole world is different.  
One word to descibe that, 'Unreal'.

What is the world's worth and a dream? That problem can never be solved. Goals can also be known as dreams. And then, the thought of the question above comes another question that tears us apart from the original goal.  
"What's the point?"

Different people, different answers, different lies.  
We all know that we need a place to think, to hide, to confde, to confine, a happy place.  
But what would happen if that place became your eternal reality?  
It's your world, it's your choice, it's your life. 


	3. Chapter 3

_"Yeah, did you hear about that freaky murder?"_

"Murder? No...I don't watch the news, Jake."

_"Oh, it was weird. You know I'm the photographer for all of those __**CSI**__ peoples. Yeah, their on it. A week ago a two men were found dead with all their bones broken, and their throats, and cuts all over their body, like a paper shredder. A few knives were left in whatever solid was left of the killing. I know, Marie, that you enjoy this stuff. But the part that was weird was their was blood all over the walls, like a painting, and in big letters, 'I'm coming home'. And a semi-auto hanging on a nail by the trigger. Isn't that weird? Marie? Marie? You all right?"_

"Yeah...I'm fine...just I didn't expect that..."

_"Oh, Marie, the horror freak is freaked out! Wow, a record! Well, gotta go, Marie."_

"...Love you, little brother."

She hung up the phone, terrified.

_He's coming __**back?**_

She began freaking out, and locked all the doors, and turned on all the lights, and turned on to the news.

_"A week after the terrible murder of two men and the hunt for a serial killer, two more victims were found in the outlines of Harnett County borderline, very close to Wake County. The bodies were found in a car and a trashcan, and __**Sunny Skies**__ employees tell of what they heard and saw."_

_"...I've never seen something happen so quick. I was serving a friend Ice Cream when it happened. A man wearing an old Jason mask and a hoody, about Six Foot 3, and dark blue jeans and dark Vans shoes...walked up to two men with Ciggerates and began shouting at them by the picnic tables. The men got into some kind of arguement, then, a click, and one of the men collapsed, and the other one began running to his car. The man pulled out a semi-automatic and opened fire, on the car, our store, and began throwing a fit. He threw a knife at the door to __**Sunni Skies**__...and...ended it..."_

_"...It happened...so quickly, so intense...He almost came in contact with me...I was in the rocking chair when he opened fire...oh my god..."_

_"The search for this Gunslinger is puzzling for the police. The killer once again wrote in blood the same words. The names of the victim's will not be realesed until the killer is caught. This is..."_

Then the phone rang.

She scrambled, jumping up and down, Blond hair flying up and down, as short as it was, she was scared.

"HELLO! Oh, sorry hello...who is this?"

_"Jesus Christ Marie! What the hell is going on?"_

"Oh...just...I felt sleepy and woke up from a nightmare when the phone rang. It's kind of hard to fetch the phone when you just fell down the stairs."

_"Literally or..."_

"Literally."

_"Damn girl you must of run fast! The phone only rang four times!"_

"...I'm fine, Caitlyn."

_"Well, have you got the Avenged Sevenfold CD yet? My fav. song is Gunslinger..."_

Beep beep...

"Oh sorry, somebody else is calling. I'll talk to you later...it looks like an important phone number..."

_"__I've always been true,  
I've waited so long just to come hold you,  
I'm making it through,  
It's been far too long,  
we've proven our love over time's so strong, in all that we do  
The stars in the night, they lend me their light  
to bring me closer to heaven with you  
...Bring me closer...  
__But with all that we've been through,_

_After all this time I'm coming home to you..."_

A poetic deep voice immediatly responded to the her breath, as she breathed in, and let it out as soon as the voice ended.

Her eyes widened.

"HOW COULD YOU? DAMN YOU, MATTHEW! GODDAMN YOU!"

A long paused silence, then an answer.

_"This ride that takes me through life  
Leads me into darkness but emerges into light  
No one can ever slow me down  
I'll stay unbound..."_  
"STOP ANSWERING WITH THOSE WORDS FROM THAT CD! STOP! WHY WON'T YOU COME TO YOUR SENSES!"

_"I'm not insane, I'm not insane."_ The chuckling shocked her mind, as she slammed her fists.

"_Shh, be quiet, you might piss somebody off..."_

_"I won't question why so many have died  
My prayers have made it through yeah  
'Cause with all these things we do  
It don't matter when I'm coming home to you  
And with all that we've been through  
After all this time I'm coming home to you..."_

She stayed silent, and began crying, as she struggled to not hang up the phone.

"Why...why did you kill them all? Why did you leave to get them? Why? We were about to get married...that was...that was...two months ago! You...you...I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!"

A long silence, and sounds of mumbling, then the voice entered her reluctant ears again.

"_I believe my sins have been forgiven,_

_and I belive my choice will save me from this life_

_..."_

Marie wanted to speak, but he cut her off.

_"We've all had time to grow_

_I hope I'm wrong, but I know I'm right_

_I'll hunt again one night_

_..."_

Marie tried again, but he did once more.

_"I left her when I found her_

_And now I wish I'd stayed_

_'Cause I'm lonely and I'm tired_

_And I'm missing you again oh no_

_Once Again_

_..."_

She knew he was still going, so he let him.

_"This place full of peace and light, and I'd hope you might  
take me back inside when the time is right__  
__..."_

Then the phone went dead.

Borderline of Virginia and North Carolina

A foot slammed the front door open to an old beach house that smelled of sulfur. The terrible smell gave a man who looked rather young but most likely was in his thirties a rather disgusted and tired look, as he raised his arm to his mouth to cough, switching the silver .45 pistol to his lef hand, to signal his appropriate 25 year old looks brother, who was probably 29 into the living room, where the smell was strongest.

The older brother had rather siky looking hair, short, and a dusty brown, but not all seemingly dark. His eyes were a light and dark greenish blue, and he looked like one of those heart-ache boys you'd meet in your Seniors or Colledge, but for women, they never thought they were so lucky. His face still held his baby-fat.

But what made him feel the worst was what he did for a living, he got no pay, but it started out as an old grudge against demons.

His younger brother had dark curly hair, and his eyes were a little bit darker, and had a wider nose. His face was much flatter, and a slight half-inch taller than his brother.

Dean and Sam were their names.

"Demons. Watch out for salt." Dean mumbled, as he walked forward, trying to be as stealthy as he could.

Sam looked at Dean to watch him smile and mumble 'I'm batman'.

They both kicked open a door to a room that smelled the worst the demonic burning smell.

The smell was worse than the blood painted walls in writing, and the gutted bodies below, which happened to still be spurting out blood like gasoline poured into an open engine.

"I'm coming home" was on the wall, and Sam looked around, looking at the next wall, and in bulletholes, it looked like handwriting, it said, along with blood, "And the sun will set for you".

"I don't get it, Dean. A demon was here, and yet he wants to go home, and to who? And who are these people?"

"Shit, I just read about them in the paper, Sam, they're psycho councellors, they do anger managemnet, they even work at an asylum. And they just realesed a book on dreams...they caused serial killers to understand more about themselves." Dean looked up at Sam, while Dean covered his mouth at the disgusting Gun murder before them.

"You think the demon has a past here? Or around here?" Sam asked.

"Well, he made it clear that he does have something to do with the area around here, so yeah."

"But there's been murders all over the place in North Carolina, Dean! First the mountains, then the coast, then the middle of it! Now here! He's moving!"

"True, but we don't know if he's running, or just wandering. He could be just a normal case of wandering demon. Easy, we take him ou--"

Sam went over to the floor, and picked up a book.

"Then what's this?"

"We have to go, now, before the cops get here."

"Good idea."


End file.
